The After
by Xinders
Summary: When the war ends and Harry is still alive he's not quite sure what to do with himself. It's a good thing that Death has a few ideas. MOD!Harry, OC, Not Epilogue Compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

Welcome to my first ever fanfic! Fair warning: I'm not a native English speaker, so there might be some things that are wrong. Please leave a comment with any constructive criticism. If you're interested in being a beta reader for this fic, OH MY GOD YES PLEASE I NEED YOU!... ahem, I mean, that would be lovely.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry Potter had not expected to survive the war. It was more of a thought that stuck in the back of his mind that time he watched Voldemort climb out of a giant cauldron in a graveyard in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Now that the battle was over and Voldemort's cold dead body laid wasting away under white sheets, along with many of Harry's enemies and loved ones alike, Harry did not quite know what to do with himself.

'Oh', he thought as he watched Mrs. Weasley's cheeks dry up; she was still crying, but it seemed her tears had run out. 'I'm still here.'

Ron and Hermione were huddled together next to Ron's mum. Ron's face was pale and violently red at the same time. There were streaks of dried blood in his hair and on his nose. It reminded Harry of that first day on the Hogwarts Express, of the boy in the hand-me-down clothes that he shared his candy with.

Hermione had a far-away look in her eyes. Her hair was weighed down with dirt and water. It draped heavily across her slumped shoulders, but Harry doubted it was her hair that was weighing them down. Even now she looked beautiful.

At that thought, Harry looked away. There had been a moment, while Ron was gone and Harry and Hermione were the only ones in that old tent in the middle of bloody nowhere, while they were dancing ever so closely together, where he thought that maybe they-

Maybe she and he could-

And then that moment passed.

Hermione was not his and he had given up on the dream of making her his the moment he gave up on surviving past the age of seventeen. He had walked to his death and he had left her behind. And now here he stood, hiding in an alcove, an ache in his limbs and bones and heart.

He was alive.

Backing deeper into the alcove as someone ran past him carrying potion bottles, and slumped against the cold stone. A soft hum coming from his pocket caught his attention. He pulled out the elder wand and the hum grew louder. Twirling the wand in his hands he looked out into the Great Hall and sighed.

When a war ends and the initial feeling of shock wears off a great many things happen at once. Hogwarts was being reconstructed, the shops in Diagon Alley were once more opening their doors and the Ministry was attempting to sort out the absolute mayhem that came with a failed successful coup d'etat. Anywhere Harry looked there were people celebrating or rebuilding, but there were also people mourning or angry or both.

Harry just felt lost.

He'd moved into number 12 Grimmauld Place right after the battle. The place was spilling over with memories. There was the couch Sirius and he had sat on drinking warmly spiced pumpkin juice and butterbeer. On the chair in the corner of the kitchen is where Snape would always sit, his back protected by the walls. When he climbed up the stairs he could swear he heard Fred and George scurry into their rooms, hiding away their extendable ears. But George was down at the Burrow and Fred's footsteps would no longer make sounds, even if he was hiding among the furniture. Because Fred was dead. And so were Snape and Sirius and Remus and Tonks and -

At this point Harry always ran to his room, slamming the door behind him. It was a room that had been unused _before_. There was still dust on the shelves and the bed smelled of mildew and stale air. There were no ghosts here, at least none that Harry was familiar with.

What few belongings Harry had were scattered across the room. The album with pictures of his parents sat on his nightstand. His clothes hung in the closet, although he barely wore any of them these days. Most of them were school uniforms he no longer needed. Letters with his name on it waited for his attention on the small writing desk by the window, held down by a random trinket he'd found in one of the drawers.

Harry sat staring at the small stack of them. He'd been putting off opening them for the last few weeks, not quite ready to talk to anyone at all - not even through letters. Straightening his back he reached for the small pile of parchments and opened the first one.

_To Mr. Harry James Potter,_

_On May 16th, 1998 the Goblin Court met as requested by ms. Hermione Jean Granger to discuss the ban put upon the Misters Harry James Potter and Ronald Bilius Weasley, and the ms. Hermione Jean Granger and all their respective kin in accordance with Goblin Law following the following issues:_

_\- Theft from the vaults of the Gringotts Bank  
__\- Theft of a dragon from the Gringotts Bank  
__\- Manipulation of a member of the Goblin Nation  
__\- Entry into Goblin nation territory with the intention to act against the interests of the Goblin Nation and its people._

_After reviewing the evidence laid before the court by ms. Hermione Jean Granger the court has decided to rescind the ban on your person. You are once again free to do business with the Gringotts bank on the condition that you and your kin do no physical or mental harm to any of the people of the Goblin Nation or enter into any territory of the Goblin Nation with ill intent towards its business._

_May this be a mutually lucrative agreement,_

_Ragdor Skullsplitter, Goblin of the Law_

Harry blinked at the parchment. It seemed Hermione had been busy. Harry wondered if she had received a letter or if she had heard the verdict personally.  
Putting the letter away he picked up the next one. This one had the Gringotts stamp on it as well, but the content was much shorter.

Harry read the letter and then sat there in stunned silence. The chair clattered to the ground as he stood up. He stuffed the parchment into his pocket and rushed out the front door, nearly forgetting to close the darn thing on his way out.

The rest of the letters lay forgotten on his desk.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Thanks for giving this fic a try! I'm still looking for a Beta reader so if anyone is interested feel free to send me a PM. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Enjoy!

* * *

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I feel it is my duty to inform you there is a vault that is yours to claim when you want it. All you have to do is take this letter to Gringotts and show it to a teller._

_I have it on good authority that your parents would like to speak to you and are waiting for you there._

_Sincerely,_

_Mortis Hatt_

* * *

Between the patchwork of half-standing buildings in Diagon Alley the Goblin bank looked almost pristine. As Harry walked through the front door he couldn't help but remember the last time he had set foot in the establishment. Had the goblin guards always looked that bloodthirsty? With their spears that gleamed in the dim candlelight and their scowling faces, their armor polished but obviously well used. Harry quickly came to the conclusion that yes, they had. But there was no turning back now. The letter had had the official Gringotts stamp which spoke of its verity. At least, Harry hoped so.

He walked straight up to a teller, it was a slow day in Gringotts and waited for the Goblin to address him.

"State your business." The teller sneered at the wizard. Harry slipped the piece of parchment onto the raised desk. With a huff, he stamped the parchment and called over a guard.

"Take Mr. Potter to room 903." The guard grunted and motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry took one last look at the teller, who was filing away the letter in an ancient looking tomb.

"Do not lose your guard, Mr. Potter." The teller growled. Harry promptly turned on his heel and realized that the guard was almost out of sight.

For such a small being the goblin was fast, Harry had to jog to keep up with him. They left through a door to the left of the entrance to the vaults. It led to a long hallway with doors on either side. There were sounds coming from behind some of the doors, while light shone out from under others. One of the doors they passed flickered in and out of sight. At a door with a golden nine on it, the goblin firmly tapped his spear against the wood.

"Room 907 is in the lower floors. No weapons allowed. You will leave your wand here." The goblin pointed to a small box next to the door. Harry slipped his holly wand from his back pocket and dropped it into the box. He reached for the elder wand in his other pocket. The goblin grunted.

"Not that one." Before Harry could ask any questions the goblin pushed open the door and glared at him. "Room 907 is seven stories down. Do not disturb any of the other rooms. Do not go past that floor. And do not fall."

With that, he waved Harry through the doorway.

On the other side of the door, there was a spiral staircase without a handrail, a grand chandelier lighting the room. It seemed to go down forever, no doors in sight. Sticking close to the wall Harry slowly descended the staircase, counting his steps as the chandelier grew smaller and smaller.

At fifty stairs the first door appeared. It was a metal door and there was a symbol etched onto it. At one hundred stairs, the second door appeared, looking much the same as the first one.

'I've got a long way to go then,' Harry concluded, 'I wonder what the symbol will be. I don't recognize either of these ones.'

He kept walking. The light from the chandelier became dimmer, but that didn't seem to be a problem. The stairwell never got too dark to see.

Finally, at three hundred and fifty stairs, Harry stopped. There was a black metal door with intricate etchings all along the frame. In the middle, there was a symbol he was intimately familiar with. A triangle with a circle in it, and a straight line running vertically through the middle. Harry glanced down at the elder wand and gripped it tighter.

The wand started to hum, the way it had the day of the final battle. The door seemed to vibrate with it, sending ripples through the wall and floor. The etchings on the door began to glow

Then the wand grew hot. With a yelp, Harry let go of the stick. It shot towards the symbol on the door, sinking into the grooves.

Shaking out his hand Harry stared at the door. 'What is happening?'

Just then, his invisibility cloak flew out of his pocket. He didn't even remember putting it in his pocket in the first place! Harry tried to catch onto the cloak, but he caught only air. WIth a rush of fabric, it melted into the metal. A pit formed in his stomach, it was one of the only things he had of his parents.

A hand touched Harry's shoulder. His head whipped around. There, warm and solid and slightly glowy stood both his parents. Tears spilled from Harry's eyes.

His mother lifted her hand and pressed it against his cheek. Her smile was brilliant, even more beautiful than Harry could remember.

His father reached into the pocket of his pant and pulled out a small stone. The stone looked like nothing special, just another rock in a world filled with rocks, but of course, Harry recognized this rock. Taking a shaky breath he reached for the resurrection stone. His father closed his hands around Harry's. "We're waiting for you inside."

Harry took a shaky breath. He was alone again.

He turned his attention back to the wall. In his hand, the stone quivered. With newfound determination, Harry tapped the stone against the door. He watched as it melted into the metal. The door flashed once, twice, and swung wide open.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **It keeps amazing me that people are actually reading this story. I'll keep updating as often as I can, so please leave any constructive criticism you might have in the review section. This whole story sometimes feels like a fever dream to me.

Enjoy!

* * *

The room was dark, yet every corner of it was perfectly visible as if bathed in the afternoon sun. Harry stood by the entrance and waited for something to happen, for anything to happen, but nothing did.

He stepped forward and paused. Still nothing.

Was this all there was? Granted, the room was strange, almost otherworldly, but he had expected more. At the very least a desk with one of those old fashioned lamps magical folk seemed so fond of. As he thought that a desk with a lamp appeared, right where he had imagined it would have been.

Harry took a step back, startled, then laughed at himself. After all those years in the magical world, he could still be surprised. He walked up to the desk and turned on the lamp. Running his hands along the wood Harry wondered whether the room was what he thought it was. He imagined a comfortable chair to go with the desk and was much less surprised this time when a comfortable chair appeared. It had deep green velvet cushions and gold capped legs. Harry took a seat.

Next, he imagined a tea set and biscuits and poured himself a cup when they appeared. The biscuit was crumbly and not too sweet, and the tea had a fruity flavor he couldn't quite place. Harry thought up random things and watched them appear and disappear as he imagined. A snitch whizzed by, white lilies covered the floor of the room, purple clouds glided across the ceiling and a black kitten lapped at the milk in the tea set.

"I see you're enjoying yourself."

Harry yelped and spilled some of his tea on his lap. With a wave of his wand, he dried up the mess and turned to the voice.

Standing behind on the other side of the desk was a man of indiscernible age in a dark blue suit. His hair was black and slicked back, reminiscent of a Malfoy, and his cheeks sunken. It was his eyes that gave Harry a pause, for they were completely black.

A chair appeared beside the man, one that looked to be a set with Harry's, and the man took a seat. The man poured himself some tea while Harry watched and picked at his sleeve.

"My name is Mortis Hatt. Do you know why you're here, Mr. Potter?" The man's black eyes focused on Harry. The wizard shrugged.

"If you don't mind I'll call you Harry, I find it's much easier to be on friendly terms with someone during a conversation such as this one. You can call me Mortis, although you don't speak much do you?" Harry blushed and shook his head. It had been a while since he'd used his voice. The quiet happened gradually. In the beginning, when he'd first moved into Grimmauld Place, he would find himself talking to someone only to realize there was no one there. Eventually, he decided to stay silent, in the hopes that he would not have to deal with the loneliness. It hadn't worked, but it had stuck.

"Well, no matter," the man, Mortis, grinned at him. "I'll understand you either way."

Mortis picked up a biscuit and nibbled at a corner of it. He eyed the kitten who was now prowling along the edge of the desk, on the hunt for purple clouds. "I must say, it is nice to have you back, Harry. You always do bring a bit of excitement to this place."

Harry cocked his head and frowned. 'I'm sure I'd remember having been here before.'

"But you have. And the last time was on May 2nd, right after you completed your destiny. Bravo for that, by the way." Mortis wrinkled his nose at the biscuits. A bouquet of blood pops appeared next to it.

'You hear my thoughts?' Harry's mind raced, trying to figure out what he meant. As the man unwrapped a blood pop a light went off in his head. 'Is this the Room of Requirement?'

"Quite right. Although that is not the whole truth. The Room of Requirement is a part of this place, an extension if you will. I'm still sour about losing that bet. This place is much, much bigger. And better."

Harry looked around. 'It doesn't seem all that big to me.'

The man chuckled and abruptly stood. "Yes, well, I had to fit it in this bank somehow, now didn't I? Walk with me."

Harry hurried after Mortis as he started walking, the black kitten followed along. As they walked Harry noticed that none of the walls seemed to come any closer, but the desk they had sat at got further away with every step.

'Where are we going?' Harry bent down and picked up the kitten. The black ball of fur purred happily.

"There are many things that are true, Harry, than most people will ever know to be so. You've had experience with this, yes?"

Harry thought about the white room and professor Dumbledore, about an ugly deformed thing that had once been Tom Riddle, and nodded.

"You've come to possess three items; a cloak, a wand, and a stone. Three items with their own special abilities, but when together they form a key. The fact that you are here means that these items saw into your soul and found you worthy."

'But what does that mean?' Harry asked, apprehension growing.

They stopped walking and Mortis held out his hand and moved it as if opening a sliding door. The darkness moved aside and an entryway appeared. The kitten wiggled and jumped out of Harry's arms, disappearing through the opening. Mortis turned to Harry and motioned for him to follow.

"Come on, we don't have all day." Harry stepped through and was instantly hit with heavy humidity. A cool breeze caught in his hair. He was standing on a patio overlooking a beach.

Mortis took a seat on a long wooden bench and patted the spot next to him. He pulled a bright blue popsicle out of his pocket and held out a bright red one to Harry. It tasted of artificial strawberry flavoring. After a moment of just sitting there enjoying the view, Harry turned to Mortis.

'You haven't answered my question.' Harry watched as Mortis' shoulders slumped forward, a shadow fell across his face. 'Sir, the letter told me to come to Gringotts as soon as possible. That my parents were waiting for me. I saw them right before I entered… wherever this is. How is that possible?'

Mortis looked at Harry, his black eyes piercing. Harry gulped. "You already know how, don't you? You can feel it. Something changed that day you defeated the Dark Lord. Something you're not sure how to describe."

Harry shook his head, his eyes grew wider.

"You Mastered Death."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **About my plans for this story, it's going to be a long one, so bear with me. Please leave some constructive criticism in the reviews, I crave it more than I do double fudge brownies (and boy, do I crave double fudge brownies).

Enjoy!

* * *

'Is this a joke?' Harry's palms were clammy, his heart racing. 'Is this some kind of elaborate prank?'

Mortis barked out a bitter laugh. "Oh Harry, I wish it was. There's nothing we can do to change things, I'm afraid. You did what everyone thought to be impossible and this is your reward. "

The man patted Harry on the back and turned his attention away from him, giving the boy a moment to digest that. After all, he remembered how scared he'd been at first.

'Who are you?' Harry asked. Mortis hummed, the same sound that the elder wand had made, and Harry knew.

"My name is Mortis Hatt, and I am Death. But before that, I was just like you."

Mortis told Harry about how he was once in Harry's shoes, sitting on the very same bench, listening to a strange man with black eyes explain the way life truly worked. There were countless worlds that existed in countless dimensions. Some of them were similar to the one Harry knew, most of them were unrecognizable. Mortis told Harry stories about worlds where the oceans had dried up and the people lived off of what they called cloud matter. He told him stories about a world where there were no humans and magic was wild and free to do as she pleased. He told stories of gods and demons, of spaceships and distant planets, of peaceful warriors that fought without ever harming anyone and child soldiers whose clothes were stained with blood. They sat on the bench for a whole day; Mortis told his stories and Harry listened.

'I'm either completely bonkers or this is really happening, and I'm inclined to believe it's the second one.' Harry thought.

"Don't worry Harry, you're just as sane as I am." Mortis said. Harry glared at the man, at Death.

'A friend of mine once said that to me. It was not much of a comfort back then either.'

"Luna Lovegood, I believe? A delightful girl. Best poker player I've ever had the pleasure of losing from." Harry blinked at that. Somehow he was not at all surprised.

"Reality is weird," Mortis said, "it's so much more than any one person can comprehend. But there is always one constant; there is always Death."

The waves crashed in the background. The kitten was playing in the sand, darting away from incoming water and pouncing after small crabs. It looked up at Harry, and for the first time, he noticed its eyes. They were as green as his own, maybe even greener. As green as the curse of Death.

"Am I your master, then?" The kitten had caught a crab. It had bitten straight through the shell, and Harry wondered what kind of cat it was.

"Not in the way you'd think. You see, mastering death does not give you eternal life. You'll die, everything does, but when you do you won't be going where other souls go. You are my heir. Your death will be your ascension, and I will finally have my chance to rest."

He clasped his hand on Harry's shoulder. It felt strange - warm, yet freezing at the same time. "Don't worry, this does not mean I expect you to take over right away. That would involve you dying, and you still have a long and fulfilling life to live.'

Harry let that all sink in. 'I don't think I'd mind dying. I've been ready for a while.'

"I know." Mortis smiled sadly. "As I said, I've been watching you. You've been hiding away in that god awful house. Not speaking with anyone, not contacting those friends of yours. Not even - what's her name? Ah, yes. Hermione."

Harry ducked his head. 'She doesn't need me. None of them do. I've served my purpose, what else is left?'

"Why, my dear boy, a whole lot of life! And what a fantastic one it could be, too." Mortis gestured to the ocean. The sun was just setting, lighting up the horizon in a blaze of colors. "Don't you ever wonder what's out there? I know I did when I was your age."

'Sometimes,' Harry admitted. 'I used to dream about it when I was younger. My relatives, they weren't always kind to me. I used to imagine what it would be like to be _out there._'

"Then why don't you go and find out?" Mortis stood up and conjured another door. He smiled at Harry and tilted his head toward the door. "Go on, then. I believe there are some people waiting for you. And take this mongrel with you."

The black kitten was dropped into Harry's arms, caked in sand and paws wet with ocean water. With a quick wave of Mortis' hand it was clean again. Harry opened the door and stepped through, but paused before closing it. 'Is it hard? Being Death, I mean.'

A faraway look entered Mortis' eyes. For a moment he looked like just a man. "No, but it can be very lonely."

The door swung closed by itself.

* * *

Harry breathed in sharply. There was a crowd of people mingling with each other on the other side. A kind of jazzy music played in the background and laughter filled the space. Bottles of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey being passed around. It looked just like Gryffindor common room during a party, except there were non-Gryffindors mixed in. They were all familiar faces.

Cedric Diggory stood by the fireplace where he'd been in a heated debate with Tonks, whose hair was cycling through all colors of the rainbow. Remus and Fred were not far away, obviously in the midst of planning a prank. Colin Creevey was fiddling with his camera by the refreshment table, while Moody was sniffing at his glass of punch suspiciously. Last but not least, the seats where Ron, Hermione and Harry used to sit were occupied by three people. Lilly Potter, James Potter and Severus Snape were sipping on Firewhiskey and laughing at one joke or another.

Harry tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. The kitten pressed its head firmly to his cheek.

"Hey guys, Harry's here!" The music stopped and they all turned to Harry.


	5. Chapter 5

THE AFTER, CHAPTER 5

**AN: **This chapter may feel like a filler. That's because it's mostly me being self-indulgent. (Who am I kidding - all my chapters feel like fillers.)

If you leave me constructive criticism or kind words or any type of non-bullying-y review I will love you forever (definitely probably maybe).

Enjoy!

* * *

James and Lily Potter watched as their son was greeted by everyone in the room. They could only just see wild black locks of hair between the mass of limbs and smiles that had congregated by the door. Even Severus had joined them, albeit from a small distance.

"It's about time you showed up, Harrykins!" Fred shouted, the tall redhead sticking out above the rest.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks positively beamed at the boy, her hair and eyes changing to match his.

James looked at his wife. Her eyes were teary and she was biting her lip, a nervous habit she had been trying to shake but couldn't seem to get a handle on. He grabbed her hand. "What do you say we go meet our son?"

She looked up at him, her eyes shining, then looked back at the crowd. Lily took in all the people surrounding her boy, and the wide smile on her son's face and she couldn't bring herself to move. "What if he doesn't… What if after all this time he…"

James frowned. "We've missed a lot of time with him, that we cannot change. But we can do this."

Lily opened her mouth to speak. A small black kitten meowed at her feet.

There was a tap on her shoulder.

Her head whipped around. The crowd surrounding her son had parted, and there, biting his lip in a way Lily was intimately familiar with, was their son. Their _baby boy._

With that thought, Lily flew forward.

Harry wrapped his arms around his mother. Her red hair spilled across her shoulders and into his face. She smelled of warm vanilla and Firewhiskey. It was nothing like he'd imagined - nothing like the flowery perfume and detergent his aunt smelled like, or the smell of food that always seemed to cling to Mrs. Weasley. It was much, much better.

A pair of arms wrapped around both of them and lifted them off the ground. When they were back on the ground his mum let go of him just enough so that he could see his father. "Let me get a good look at you, son."

There were tears in his dad's eyes. Harry grinned up at him and maneuvered his mom to his side. "You've grown even more handsome. Just like your dad, eh?"

"Don't be a braggart James." Lilly huffed. There was a huge smile on her face. "Besides, Harry is far more handsome than you are. He's half me, after all."

Everyone around them broke out in laughter. Slowly the crowd dissipated, leaving the family of three in relative privacy.

* * *

It was difficult communicating without speaking. There was so much he wanted to say, but somehow he could not get his voice to make the sounds. His mother had smiled sadly when he tried to explain that it was not that he did not want to say anything, it was that he could not say anything.

"We know. We watched you, Harry. From the moment we died, we watched you. We never left your side." Harry leaned his head against his mother's shoulder. Her words swept over him, soothing aches he hadn't realized were there.

James was sitting on his other side, his arm slung along the back of the couch. He met Lily's eyes over their son's head and shared a sad smile.

They sat like that for hours. Sometimes one of the others joined in on their conversation. Harry laughed and cried, he even tried miming some of his adventurous tales with varying outcomes. At some point, someone had the brilliant idea of conjuring up some paper and a quill for Harry to write on.

Something was missing, but there was this pit in his stomach, an ache in his gut, that kept him from asking. Finally, when there was a moment of silence - everyone lost in their own thoughts - he slowly and meticulously wrote his question down. Hesitating only a moment more, he turned the paper towards his parents.

'**Where is Sirius?'**

His parents shared a look. "Sirius is not here." His dad had a far off look in his eyes, his grip on his glass had tightened. "When he fell through the veil we waited for him to show up. Everyone we knew shows up here at some point. But he didn't."

"We asked Mortis about it, and he says this place is a Between. It's where souls come before they're ready to move on. Maybe Sirius was just ready to move on," Remus said. It sounded a painful kind of hopeful.

Harry felt numb. He wanted to scream, to rage, to tell everyone it wasn't fair. For the first time that day Harry's tears were hot from sorrow, not joy. Around him, people bowed their head in grief.

It wasn't long after when Mortis appeared in an empty settee. "It's time to go. The world of the living awaits."

Harry grabbed his parent's hands and shook his head. 'Just a little longer? Please?'

"I'm sorry, Harry. Your time here is up. For now." Mortis turned to the people in the room. "I believe you all have something to give him?"

Everyone looked at each other. Colin Creevey stepped forward. "I guess I'll go first."

Colin pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to Harry. "Thought you might like this. I took this right before you came in."

It was a photograph with all the people there on it, smiling like loons for the camera - even Severus.

Harry nodded at the boy and put the picture away in his coat.

After that, they all lined up and gifted Harry with something. Jewelry, knowledge or even a whole journal full of prank ideas from Fred. "Do me a favor and make a copy of this for George? It would mean the world to me."

Harry carefully tucked the book in his coat pocket, silently thanking Hermione for teaching him the expansion charm.

Remus and Tonks had come together, giving Harry a necklace with a golden wolf hanging from it. "It's for Teddy."

Harry nodded and slipped it over his own head. He tapped it with his hand and Remus smiled.

Finally, his parents stood before him.

"I believe this is yours." With a big swoosh, the invisibility cloak settled on his shoulders. His father winked. "Take good care of it, and try not to get into _too _much trouble"

His mother leaned in to kiss his forehead and slipped a necklace over his head. "The stone is supposed to be more powerful now. Call for us when you need us."

"Any of us." Harry met his old potions professor's eyes. The man nodded at him.

"Are you ready?" Mortis once again handed Harry the black kitten, who purred happily.

Harry nodded. He walked over to the door and shot one last look over his shoulder. The kitten mewed.

Harry followed Mortis through to the other side.

Harry and Mortis found themselves by the desk Harry had conjured up what felt like days ago.

"That's because it is." Mortis turned off the old fashioned lamp.

They walked towards the first door. A stray thought hit Harry. 'Is this the only real door here? Or is it not a door at all?'

Mortis glanced at Harry, the corner of his lips quirking up. "It's more a portal than a door. Actually, as the Master of Death, you'll be able to access this realm wherever you are. Eventually."

'So I can visit them whenever I want?' Harry fingered the stone.

"It's not good for a living soul to spend too much time in the Between. It might be better to do it the other way around. Here we are, then." With a tap of Mortis' knuckles, the door swung open. "You're going to need this."

Harry accepted the elder wand and turned to the portal.

'Can I call you, too?' Mortis hummed and stared at the boy.

"If you need me. I'll be popping in every now and then to check on you, mind. Now go on. Shoo." Mortis practically shoved Harry through the portal, a hint of nostalgia filling him. He remembered when it was him being shooed out of the realm of the dead. "And don't forget to _live_!"

The door slammed shut behind Harry and disappeared. He stood there for a moment, wondering if he hadn't dreamed all of that up.

A wriggle in his arms startled him. The black kitten looked at him, seeming to ask him if he was done being daft. He scratched its head and sighed.

'So, Master of Death.' He sighed as he started trudging up 350 stairs. 'I wonder what Hermione would make of this.'


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Because of a family trip I might not have an internet connection for a few days. So I've decided to post 2 chapters today. Leave me any critique in the review section, especially if you really don't like a chapter! (Burn me, baby. Burn me.)

Enjoy!

* * *

The kitten, as it turned out, was a girl. Harry named her Shadow. She followed her maker around wherever he went and complained loudly when he left her alone. It had been only a few days, but to Harry, it felt like she had always been there.

During those days Harry had realized that caring for a cat was harder than he thought it was. He had no litter box for Shadow to use or cat food for her to eat. He'd almost fed the kitten some of his chocolate he had been nibbling on when he remembered Hermione lecturing him about proper cat cair back when she first got Crookshanks.

That's how he found himself in Muggle London, browsing through a selection of cat-friendly toys, feeling decidedly out of his depth.

There were little mice on a string, in all different colors. Why were they all different colors? Did it matter which color he got? Harry shook his head and put the neon pink mouse on a string back in the basket.

"So you need some help, sir?" A girl around Harry's age was standing next to him. She had bright pink hair and violently green eyebrows. He hadn't even noticed her approach, lost in his cat-toy related crisis as he was.

"Are you a first-time pet owner? You look like one. It can be a little overwhelming sometimes. Here, let me see what you've got." In a whirlwind of motion, the girl grabbed his basket from his hand and rummaged through the contents, nodding and humming all the while. Harry stood still, trying to convince himself the girl was a Muggle and probably had no ulterior motives. Her name tag read "Meghan" and had tiny paw prints surrounding the neat letters. "Not too bad, I see you chose the fancy cat food. I'm sure your feline friend will appreciate that. You've got a bag of litter. Do you already have a litter box?" She paused, looking at Harry expectantly. Harry shook his head.

"You don't say much, do you?" There was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Reminds me of a friend of mine. He's not a big talker, either. That's alright, though. Some people rely too much on the words and not on what is being said. I should know. I'm a bit of a chatterbox, but no one ever seems to really get it, you know?"

Harry blinked at her. She laughed and smoothed out her uniform.

"Right then. If you'll follow me, I'll hook you up with all the basic crazy cat lady accessories. Not that you're crazy. Or a lady. Not like some of the people, we get in here. Why just last week there was this woman who bought ten big bags of cat food. Turns out she has twenty-two cats in her tiny downtown apartment. Twenty-two! Can you believe it? How is that even legal?" And on and on she went as Harry followed her around the store, nodding in the right place, though it didn't seem to make much of a difference. His basket was slowly filling up. Eventually, they had to get a shopping cart instead. After about an hour of walking around in the store with Meghan pointing out stuff he could buy for Shadow and Harry either nodding or shaking her head no at her, Meghan rang everything up for him at the register.

"That'll be four hundred and eighty-five pounds, seventy cents." Fishing out the card he had gotten he'd gotten from Gringotts he held it out for the girl.

"Harry Potter, huh. Nice to meet you, I'm Meghan." She held out her hand and he shook it. She swiped the card and handed it back to him. "Enter your code here, please."

Harry did as she asked. She handed him his card back and waited for the bill to print.

"You know, you're my last customer. We've been closed for slightly less than an hour and it's my last day here." She looked around the pet store with a small smile on her face. "I'm following my dream, you see. I'm joining the circus. Now I know what you're thinking. 'Joining the circus? Are you crazy?'" She laughed "It's a common reaction. My mum had an aneurysm when I told her." She turned away from Harry to pack all the stuff in the bags. "But it's what I want, you know? It's like there's always been something missing and there's this feeling in my gut that this is it." With a heave, she plopped the bags in front of Harry. The pile was almost as tall as she was.

"When I heard they were in town I begged my friend to get me an audition. He's the one I told you about, earlier. He came through. And now I'm heading out with them."

Harry locked eyes with the girl. There was something in her that he hadn't seen in a long time. A fire he recognized form the Quidditch locker rooms. She looked so _alive_. This time it was Harry who held out his hand. Meghan blinked at him and then broke out into a wide smile. She took his hand and shook it once.

"You should come to visit me at the circus. We'll be in London until the end of next month. I won't be performing yet, but maybe I can get you a free ticket." Harry smiled at her and nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote an address on it.

"This is where we'll be. It's a big tent, you can't miss it." Harry took the piece of paper and grabbed his bags, all twelve of them.

Meghan walked with him to the exit and closed the door behind him. He watched as she turned off all the lights and disappeared into the back room. Feeling lighter than he had in a long time he turned on the spot and apparated away.

* * *

At home, Shadow was waiting for him. She complained loudly about being left alone. Mewing and hissing at him while pressing her body against his legs.

Harry set up the litterbox in the bathroom and the litterbox in the sitting room. Shadow's food bowl and water bowl were placed in the kitchen. It took him a few tries, silent magic was not something he had much experience with, but the bowls were spelled to fill up at specific times. Shadow gave everything a cursory glance, flicking her tail in excitement at the scratching post, and decided to join Harry on his bed anyway. Her shiny new bell tinkled all the way up the stairs.

They sat together, Shadow on the receiving end of some truly heavenly head scratches, while Harry examined the stone around his neck. His eyes strayed to the pile of letters that still waited for him on his desk. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and aimed. '_Accio _letters.'


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Just for the record, this fic is still not Beta'd. Happy Easter, everybody! (If you celebrate it. A happy long weekend to you, all the same.

Enjoy!

* * *

The Burrow was newly rebuilt, but it still leaned precariously to one side. There were garden gnomes running around along the fence line. Harry swallowed hard. He had not set foot in this place since _before. _Standing by the front door felt wrong, somehow. Like everything had changed, just as he had changed, and yet here he was pretending that nothing had changed at all.

He gripped his necklace tighter. The little golden wolf next to it rested on his chest. Yet another place he'd have to visit soon.

Harry took a deep breath, rethought all his life choices in under a second, and knocked.

"Ginny, love, there's someone by the door!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang through the small house. A shrill ringing filled the silence after. The front door swung open.

"Harry," Ginny breathed, her eyes growing wider. Harry smiled at her, an uncertainty in his eyes she'd rarely seen before. "Where have you been? I've been wai-"

"Ginny, have you seen my hairbrush? I can't find it anywhere, and Ron is being a total prat about it. Honestly, I can't believe him sometimes, how-" There was a gasp. "Harry?"

Harry was tackled. He and his attacker tumbled to the ground, almost squashing one of the gnomes in the process. A cloud of bushy hair obscured his view, but he didn't need to see to know who this was. Hermione's arms locked around his neck and Harry's arms moved by themselves, pressing his best friend closer to him. Something inside of him loosened, something slid back into place.

A slight shaking woke him from his thoughts. With a start, he realized that Hermione was crying. Deep, heavy sobs shook her light frame. He sat up bringing her with him. With a hand to her cheek, he looked her in the eye, his concern obvious in his frown.  
Hermione pulled back slightly and - _slap!_

"You prat! You blooming big arsehole! I wrote to you! Did you even read my letters? Do you know how long it's been? You just- you disappeared!" Her sobs got even louder. Harry flinched back. There was a crowd forming in the doorway, but neither of the best friends seemed to notice. "First you go and bloody _die, _and then you have the nerve to- to just- to just _leave. _How can you do that to us? To _me!"_

Hermione reached up and hit his chest with her fists, twice for good measure. She bit her lip and collected herself. "Am I not important to you?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Grabbing Hermione's shoulders he forced her to look at him. He opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But no sound came out.

Harry let out a frustrated growl. Grabbing Hermione's hands in his he pressed them to his own cheeks and held them there, willing her to understand.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something?" Harry wanted to scream in frustration. He tapped his throat and shook his head. He saw the moment Hermione realized what he was trying to convey. Her eyes widened, her grip on his face tightened.

"Oh," she said.

Harry gave her a sad smile and tilted his head so their foreheads were pressed together.

Suddenly, Hermione was ripped away from him.

Ron had come down to see what all the racket was about, just in time to witness one of Hermione slap his other best friend. When she started yelling at him, scolding him for not contacting them, Ronald had to agree with his girlfriend and wisely decided to stay with his family. An angry Hermione was scary as hell, Merlin only knew what she would do to the object of her anger.

Next to him, his mother looked lost, yet there was a relieved slump to her shoulders. She was gripping onto Fred's arm, who winced only slightly. The rest of the family was out, but they'd be happy to see Harry, Ron was sure.

He was just about to step forward during a moment of silence, to break up the fight and suggest they catch up over lunch - his mum had cooked a full spread, when Hermione whispered "Am I not important to you?" in a voice more vulnerable than he had ever heard her be, even when she talked to him about her parents. Then Harry had grabbed Hermione, calming her down with that one move in a way that Ron had never been able to. He took a step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

Next to him, Ginny was looking on with wide eyes, her other hand balled into a tight fist. She turned to Ron, and he _knew. _When he turned back to his two best friends - their foreheads pressed together, both of them lost in their own little world - Ron saw red.

"Let go of me! Ron, what are you doing!" Hermione's arm gave a painful twinge where Ron had grabbed hold of her. She was sure there would be a big bruise there, later. She turned to Ron to berate him and was met with a full storm.

"Who do you think you are. Coming around here after all this time. Is fame not enough for you, Potter?" Ron spat the name out like it was poison in his mouth. "Well though. Hermione is _mine_, and you can't just waltz in here like you own the place and take her!"

Ron's hand tightened on the last word and Hermione cried out in pain.

"Ron, you're hurting me." Hermione whimpered. Ron leaned into her. His face was red, his pupils just a dot in his eyes.

The earth shook. A hard wind whipped against them. Wild magic filled the air around them. Very familiar magic. Ron and Hermione slowly turned.

Harry stood, his eyes burning into Rons, his shoulders straight and tense. Just three steps and he was in front of them. Faster than the eye could follow is hand shot out and grabbed Ron.

Ron let go of Hermione with a cry. His skin was burning where Harry's hand touched his skin.

"That's quite enough." Mrs. Weasley pushed both boys apart, stepping in between them with a glare. "I think it's best if you go home, Harry. Let everyone cool off."

The storm around Harry quieted down. He took in the Weasleys, all of them had their wands out. Startled, Harry took a step back and nodded.

Turning to Hermione, he held out his hand and jerked his head away from the Burrow, a hopeful expression on his face.

Hermione closed her eyes and steeled herself. "Harry, I'm sorry. I can't go with you."

She didn't see Harry's hand drop, nor did she see his face crumble or the triumphant smugness on Ron's. There was a small pop.

When she opened her eyes he was gone.

* * *

_Dear Andromeda,_

_This necklace was given to me by Remus and Tonks. I know they'd want Teddy to have it._

_Tell my godson I love him, and that I'll visit him when I can._

_Kind regards._

_Harry J. Potter_


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **It's been a while since my last chapter. I live in a third world country and my family trip was in a wifi dead zone. The joy. I'll be updating normally from now on.

Leave a review down below to make my day.

Enjoy!

* * *

All the people were walking in the same direction, and somehow Harry got swept up in the stream of them. Excited children chased each other between adults with their heads bowed to each other, their eyes lit with anticipation. A young man bumped into Harry, spilling some Diet Coke on the leather jacket he'd found in Sirius' old room, and gave the wizard the stink eye. Harry huffed. He was seriously regretting going out.

He'd been locked in the godforsaken townhouse for days, unwilling to even look out the window. Harry's hair stood up in ways it hadn't done since he was on the run. In some ways, he was on the run now, too. Except there was nowhere for him to run to, so he lingered in the empty rooms in dark and dirty Grimmauld Place, staring at the lighter patches of wallpaper where there once were dark objects or questionable paintings. Mrs. Weasley had made them throw them all away, and Harry wondered if they were right to. If they had any right to. Was he a light patch on their wall?

"I wonder if they have tigers," a girl behind Harry whispered to who he presumed was her date.

"Not sure about tigers, but I've heard they've got a bloke whom can talk to snakes." The girl giggled, leaning into the boy.

Harry turned a corner and stilled. The couple walked right by him. A big tent was nestled between empty industrial buildings. Red and white stripes billowed down from the top, where a flag waved back and forth in a lazy dance. Hundreds of lights floated in the air around it, the electric cords hidden in the darkness. Streams of people came in from all sides, flowing together into a line that led to a gap in the red and white. In front of the entrance stood a small booth, a sign that read 'tickets' in whimsical letters on top of it.

It looked a little like magic, Harry knew. The kind he had long forgotten about.

He'd made it all the way to the ticket booth. Music floated out of the tent. It mingled with laughter and popping corn, the spinning of a candy floss machine underneath it all.

"You came!" A familiar face smiled at Harry from within the ticket booth. Meghan's eyebrows were now an electric blue color, her pink hair was pulled into what looked like the clouds of candy floss sold inside. She had glitters all around her eyes and was wearing a white bodysuit that covered everything below her jawline. Harry blinked at her in a daze, slightly overwhelmed by her sheer _otherness_. She waved her hand in front of his face and he realized she'd been talking to him.

"If you wait a bit I'll get you the best seats in the tent. Just come around back." Harry walked around the booth. There was a door at the back that swung open to reveal an empty stool next to Meghan's. He took a seat, just out of sight of the rest of the crowds. Meghan winked at him and turned to the next customer, taking their money and handing out tickets.

Soon the last customer disappeared inside and she closed up the booth. She grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him with her, away from the main entrance.

"This way, come on." They passed by smaller tents and trailers - living spaces for the performers, Harry assumed. There were people running around, carrying big hoops and pushing motorcycles. A group of girls in the same outfits as Meghan were gathered around a table. A man in exotic looking clothing was cleaning a flute. Some people shouted a greeting at Meghan or gave a short wave, but everyone had somewhere they needed to be.

"Over here. Try to be quiet, the audience can't know we're here," Meghan glanced at Harry, "although I don't see you having any problems with being quiet. With you not talking and all."

Her smile was understanding and kind, and Harry couldn't be offended if he tried. They made their way into the tent, shuffling sideways between a man with a top hat and a couple polishing a set of juggling pins.

"Don't miss your cue, Meghan!" the man with the top hat yelled after them. Meghan waved at him as they hurried away, towards the ruckus of the full house. They climbed up a set of stairs, then another one, and shimmied their way through a hole in the wall of curtains.

"There you go, then. Best seat in the house." They were standing in a box overlooking the whole tent. A woman sat behind a giant control panel, a headset placed firmly on her head. She was sliding things this way and that, turning knobs and pressing buttons as she went.

"Brought someone to keep me company, did you?" There was a twang to her voice, a slight accent he couldn't quite identify.

"This here's Harry." Meghan pushed Harry down into a chair. "Harry, that's Linda. She's our amazing, fantastic, all around spectacular sound and light lady."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Linda laughed and stuck her hand out. "You're welcome to join me, just don't touch anything and don't distract me."

Harry nodded and shook her hand.

"Don't worry, Harry's like Gordon." Linda shot him a look that was as understanding as Meghan's had been earlier. Meghan dropped something in Harry's lap. A bag of hot popcorn. He popped a piece in his mouth as he wondered when Meghan had gotten it.

There was a slight _ding_.

"It's showtime. You'd better get going, pink. Wouldn't want to be late for your first show."

Meghan looked slightly alarmed at that.

"Enjoy the show, Harry!" Harry held up both his thumbs to wish her luck, but she'd already disappeared back the way they came.

With the push of a button, the music died and the lights went out. The crowd grew quieter until one could hear the flag at the top of the tent whipping around.

It started slowly, like the ocean pulling back before a tidal wave. A rhythmic beating of drums swelled from under the bleachers. Faster and faster, louder and louder they went. Then, all at once, a wall of light and sound crashed down upon them. Trumpets and tubas, bass guitars and electric guitars, spinning spotlights and colorful lasers beaming at smoke from smoke machines - it washed away the world as Harry had known it. There was only the stage.

The women dressed in white, with their candy floss hair, came pouring out of the bleachers holding giant feathered fans. They danced along the outside of the ring, the lasers coloring their bodysuits with abstract lines, swinging their feathers this way and that. Meghan was right in the thick of it, a megawatt smile on her face, her eyes as bright as her hair.

There was one final wave of noise and motion, then nothing. A lone spotlight lit up the center of the ring. The man with the top hat stood there, a cane in his left hand and his right on the rim of his hat. Slowly, he looked up and gazed out into the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to Cirque Fantasme."

Harry was on the edge of his seat. His eyes were wide, his mind still flashing through all the colors and sounds. There was a slight tremble in his hands, adrenaline in his veins.

"Tonight you'll see things you had never imagined could exist. You'll see things that will bewitch the mind and ensnare your senses. We'll take you on a journey, to our world and back - that is, if you can find the will to leave, in the end. But first, I must ask you a question. Just one simple question. Do you believe in magic?"


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **I'm sorry.

Enjoy!

* * *

It was 11:47 and there was a screaming match going on in one of the upstairs bedrooms. While Molly Weasley definitely did not approve, she also resigned herself to listening as the young couple hurled their grievances at each other. They'd been going at it for days, almost two weeks now, and showed no signs of slowing down.

"Don't you dare push this on me, Ronald! You're the one who can't seem to control yourself."

"I can't seem to control myself? I'm not the one who was slobbering all over my _supposed_ best friend like some… some.."

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Like some used up slag!"

There was a pause. The kettle whistled.

"At least I'm not dead from the neck up."

"Are you calling me dumb?"

Pouring the hot water into a teapot Molly enjoyed the smell of her favorite chamomile tea. She was going to need it if she wanted to get through this mess. Why, she remembered when Arthur and she used to get into rows. It could get quite messy.

"I asked you something. Are you saying I'm stupid? Let me remind you that I was the one who-"

"Yes, Ronald, you were the one who beat the giant wizards' chess game in our first year. Your crowning achievement."

Molly raised her eyebrows at that. She hadn't heard anyone be _that _patronizing since her twin brothers were still alive. The witch had spunk, she'd give her that.

"Lavender seems to think so. She told me so, right before we _explored_ the broom closet on the third-floor corridor!"

"Why don't you run off to her, then? Go on!"

"I should. She's much prettier than you'll ever be."

"And you'll never be even a tenth of the man that Harry is."

A loud smack echoed through the small house, followed by a big bang.

"You dare disrespect me? After everything I've done for you?"

A door slammed shut, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs.

"I'm going to the shop."

Her youngest son stormed through the kitchen, disappearing into the floo with a cry of 'Diagon Alley'.

Molly glanced at the clock. Just before noon, right on schedule.

She sighed to herself. Her other children did not need to witness this.

It would pass, and soon everything would be back to how it should be.

Maybe she could invite Harry over then. Ginny would be delighted, she was sure.

* * *

Hermione had been locked in her room for almost a full day, but Ginny wasn't particularly worried - she'd been doing that ever since she found out about the legislation surrounding the un-obliviating of muggles. The older witch had thrown a fit of legendary proportions before heading straight to the ministry to collect all the documents she'd need for the long and arduous process. Ginny did not envy her the work, nor would she be offering her help. Her father was a ministry worker, she knew exactly how frustrating the paperwork could be, thank you very much.

Her mother, on the other hand, loved to worry. Ginny sighed and shifted the tray in her hands so she could knock on the door. There was no answer.

"Hermione?" she called. Her mother had told her not to leave the other witch alone until she'd eaten at least half the food on the tray - even if she had to force it down her throat. Ginny knocked again, still no reply. "I've brought food. There's even treacle tart, your favorite!"

She tried the knob, but the door was locked. With a huff, she pointed her wand at the lock. "Alohomora."

Locks in a wizard's home were more a polite a request than a solid barrier, anyway.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, taking in the messy bed in the corner, the half-closed curtains and the mess of a girl that occupied the small room.

Hermione was sat at her working table, scratching away with a quill on a piece of parchment. There were dark circles under her eyes, her shoulders slumped into a sad decline and had she always been that skinny? Ginny was fairly sure she hadn't been.

She walked over, accidentally kicking over a bag of empty potion vials that. From the sound of it, someone forgot to spell one of them to be unbreakable. The quill never stopped scratching.

Ginny put the tray down right next to the black ink pot. "Mum says you have to eat."

There was a small gasp. The next thing she knew Hermione's wand was pointed at her face. "Ginny. You startled me."

The wand was slowly lowered. Ginny just stared. "Mione, your face."

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned, then winced as the skin pulled. "Oh."

The left side of Hermione's face was one big bruise.

"Don't worry, It'll be fine in a second," Hermione said in a matter of fact tone.

"Don't worry? Don't worry, she says! Are you aware you look like a bludger decided your face was a landing pad?"

"Episkey." The bruise faded away almost completely, only a small patch of it was left.

"Hermione, what happened?" Hermione wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Did," Ginny swallowed hard, "did Ron do this to you?"

Hermione nodded. It was a small nod, more a tilt of the head than anything else, but suddenly the room felt too small. The redhead reached out to touch Hermione. The other girl flinched away, her eyes wide. Ginny wanted to cry.

"How long?"

"Since Harry."

And out of everything Ginny just learned, that was the least surprising fact.

"I always thought the two of you would end up together," Ginny said after Hermione had eaten some food and they had braided each other's hair up, like they used to do before. "After all the things you guys went through together, after all the adventures, it felt like it would be you and him, in the end."

"A lot of the time it felt like it would never end. It still feels like that, now."

Ginny hummed her agreement. "I remember being so jealous of you until that year you started the DA. Everywhere I turned there the two of you were, together. I wanted him to confide in me, but I knew that the spot next to him was taken. If it had to be anyone but me, I was happy it was you."

"You were jealous of my relationship with Ron?"

"For someone called the brightest witch of our age you can be pretty bloody dense, you know that?" Ginny huffed. "I'm talking about Harry and you."

"Oh."

"Why are you staying, Mione?" Harry is waiting for you, Ginny added silently, but Hermione knew that was what she meant.

"I… I can't just leave! Not after everything your family has done for me. I didn't have anywhere to go and this family needs me. You all were a mess after… after. Then Gringotts happened, and I couldn't just leave that alone, not when you all already had so much on your plate. And your parents are sponsoring me so I can get my mum and dad back, I can't just leave them. And Mrs. Weasley says it's normal for couples to-"

"Hermione, stop." They looked at each other. Hermione's eyes were glassy. "I know what my mother says, and for the record, I think she's wrong. Besides, do you really think so little of us? Do you really think we'd abandon you after all _you _have done for this family? Maybe my mother, but my father is a good man, even I know that."

Tears were leaking from Hermione's eyes, a small sob escaped her.

"Do you really believe you have nowhere to go?"

"Can you leave, please?"

"Hermione, I-"

"Leave!" Hermione's chest was heaving with repressed sobs.

Ginny looked at the young women before her and mourned the bossy little girl that had looked out for her - even if Ginny had sometimes been horrible to her. They were both still holding on to some baby fat, but it had been a long time since they had been children. Quietly, the redhead stood up, taking the empty tray with her. The door creaked when she closed it behind her.

* * *

The table had three legs. Someone had balanced the fourth corner on a pile of old children's books, and that was balanced on top of a chair that had a stone the size of a fist shoved under one of _its _legs to keep it from wobbling too much.

Suffice to say, it was no surprise whatsoever when the whole things came tumbling down when, out of pure frustration - with Ron, with the endless paperwork, with _herself - _Hermione slammed her hands onto the uneven surface of it.

She stared at the wreckage, at the loose papers scattered across the floor, the ink spill in the middle of it all. It looked a bit like a Rorschach test. A laugh escaped her, a hysterical little thing. She'd have to start all over.

Her reflection caught her eye.

"I look like a Rorschach test, too," she mused, turning fully towards the mirror. There was a small ink splatter under her left eye, an uneven smudge on her forehead. She traced the slope of her nose and the curve of her cheeks with a finger, frowning at the scar just beneath her chin and the bigger one a few centimeters down from that. She winced at the bruise on her cheekbone. There was a matching one right under her blouse, she knew. All of it was familiar, the same as it had been the day before.

She pointed her wand at the glass. "Riddikulus!"

Nothing happened.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **I forgot to add it in the last chapter, but this fic is still not Beta'd. Also, if you have any criticism - good or bad - please leave a review.

Enjoy!

* * *

The personification of Death was lounging in the middle row, his feet thrown up on the back of the seat in front of him, invisible to any who bothered to look. Mortis watched his heir scurry around the big tent, the boy's white t-shirt streaked with dirt and pieces of wood chip in his unruly hair. Death conjured an apple and took a big bite.

"When I told you to go out and live," Mortis mused, appearing right behind his heir. "I didn't exactly mean for you to join the circus. But to each their own, I suppose."

Harry shot up from where he was resting, wand in hand. After a moment he tucked it back in his sleeve with an exasperated wave. 'There's nothing wrong with joining the circus.'

Mortis snorted. "No, not at all. But even you have to admit it's a bit absurd; a wizarding hero joining the circus."

Harry shrugged. He sat down and patted the bench next to him. 'Not any more absurd than a one-year-old vanquishing a Dark Lord with the power of Love.'

"I'll give you that one," Mortis laughed as he took a seat. "Though that is not at all what happened. You should give your mother more credit, Harry, she is rather brilliant."

After one last bite Mortis flicked the half-eaten apple over his shoulder. Harry slapped his arm. 'Who do you think will have to clean that up!'

"Oh, lighten up. Are you a wizard or not?" Mortis rolled his eyes, then waved his hand to banish the apple. "I know you've been living among the no-mag, but you've still got a wand. You pointed it at me well enough."

'Are you here for the show? It's our last one in London.' They both observed the people busy with the lights, all the way up by the trapeze rigs. 'Although that doesn't really matter when you're Death, does it.'

"Nor when you're dead," Mortis chuckled at his own joke. "It's been a while since I've been to a circus. If nothing else it will help pass the time."

A black ball of fur jumped onto Harry's lap. Shadow laid down and started purring. "Hello, beautiful. You've grown quite a bit bigger since I last saw you. Did the young one give you a name?"

The cat looked up at Mortis and mewed.  
"Shadow, is it? A beautiful name for a beautiful creature."

'You speak cat.' Harry blinked at the man. 'I don't know why I'm surprised.'

"I do speak cat, but Shadow here is no cat."

'Is she a kneazle, then? She seems smarter than the average cat.'

Mortis tickled the kitten under her chin. She gave a satisfied purr and pushed her head harder against his hand.

"Not a kneazle, no. She's something special." He winked at the cat. She flicked her tail at him. "You made her, you know. As far as I know, she's one of a kind."

Harry stared down at Shadow.

She stared right back.

* * *

It was impossible to tire of watching Linda work in the light booth. She moved from panel to panel like a faerie. Harry thought of the sparkle-covered dainty little silver things used as Christmas decorations and snorted. She was definitely not a faerie.

While she was beautiful, her beauty was overshone by the intelligent gleam in her eyes. Her skin was marked with dozens of tiny tattoos that were easy to miss on the dark brown color of it. Her movements were graceful, but always full of purpose. Harry pitied anyone who would dare call her decorative.

"Harry, would you mind." A bright orange ribbon was shoved in his hand. A petite woman wearing an all-black bodysuit and bright orange feathers on her face stared up at him expectantly. "I just can't seem to get it as nice as you do."

Her name was Anya Azarov, one half of the Amazing Azarovs, the juggling couple. Harry motioned for her to turn around, then placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from fidgeting.

Anya had trouble interacting with men other than her husband. It came as a surprise to everyone in the troupe when she had warmed up to the new recruit. Harry assumed it had to do with his short stature, he was barely half a head taller than her. All the other men in the circus were giants compared to him.

With great care, Harry tied the ribbon into her ponytail, the long length of fabric tucked into a neat bow. He tapped her on the back to let her know he was done and smiled at her.

"Thank you, Harry!' She hurried off. Her husband, Kozar, was waiting for her by the stairs. He nodded at Harry, a kind smile on his face. Harry nodded back.

"You've got them all charmed." Linda walked over to what everyone had started calling Harry's spot - a high chair in a corner of the light booth with a view of the whole tent. "I don't know how you did it, but you did."

Harry blushed and rearranged his hair to better cover his scar. It meant nothing to anyone here, but it was a habit that was hard to kick. They stood there in the corner, looking down at the performers as they warmed up. There was only an hour until the audience would start to arrive, and everyone was ready and raring to go.

"Are you sure?" Linda hadn't turned to look at him. He shrugged, unsure of what she meant.

"Are you sure you want to come with us, I mean." Her face was carefully blank. "It takes a special type of person to leave it all behind and joining the circus is the most behind you'll ever leave anything. It could be years before we come back here. Are you sure you want this." She waved her arm in a vague gesture that was, strangely enough, a good description of all the circus was.

Harry thought about Grimmauld Place, and Hogwarts - he thought of the Dursleys. He pulled out a pen and a small notebook Meghan had gifted him and wrote on it in his neatest handwriting.

"**I've stayed here my whole life because other people said I had to. I'm leaving because I want to."**

Linda stared at the piece of paper. When she looked up at him her gaze felt like veritaserum.

"What if you regret it?"

Harry swallowed. He thought of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, of battling a dragon and swimming in icy cold water. He thought of the feeling of catching the snitch for the very first time and running head first into a solid stone pillar, hoping there was something on the other side.

"**What if I don't?"**

* * *

Shadow licked her paw as she watched her Master close up the last of the containers. They were leaving soon, and it wouldn't do to be dirty for that. Her Master stopped to talk to one of the other humans, the one that could see. Shadow shot forward and jumped onto her Master's shoulder, pressing herself into his soft mop of hair, and mewed.

The other human was staring at her. The cat flicked her tail at the small human.

"Are you hungry, girl? There's a nice big can of tuna waiting for you in the camper."

She purred harder at that. Tuna was a heavenly treat, much better than the 'cat food' her Master had tried to feed her at first.

She wondered if there was good food where they were going.

A place called Amsterdam in the Netherlands, was it? She doubted it was _The_ Netherlands.

Living souls never went there, after all.

Humans were so strange.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: ** Hanna, lovyuuu 2!

You guys were really upset with me for what I did with Hermione and I totally get it. I'm upset with me, too.

Still not beta'd. Leave a review to let me know the good, the bad and the trashy.

Fijne Koningsdag, als je nederlands bent. And remember: zonder water, zeker een kater.

Enjoy!

* * *

If there was one thing the Ministry of Magic thrived in it was putting up a front, and even that was failing. By the time Arthur Weasley found his way to his department he had been bowled over by a delirious mailman, walked into by two sleep-deprived interns and cried on by a faceless Unspeakable. The last one especially was a surprise.

The unspeakable had stood next to him in the lift in that slightly creepy way that Unspeakables always stood until Arthur had commented on how nice the weather had been the day before - "You can really tell spring is here!". The cloaked figure had looked at him in surprise (at least that's what he thought it was, it was hard to tell with the whole hidden identity thing) and had grabbed onto him, soaking the front of his worn-out suit with tears. Arthur froze up, unsure of what to do. Finally, he had decided to pat the figure on the back, like he would one of his kids.

"Chin up," he'd said, silently willing the lift to move faster. "This, too, shall pass. You'll see."

The Unspeakable had straightened, sniffling pitifully. The lift doors slid open revealing pure and unadulterated chaos on the other side. The figure looked between the hallway and Arthur, head swivels obvious even with the enchanted cloak. They reached out and patted the Weasley on the shoulder, straightened their back and walked out like a rookie warrior heading out to their first battle.

Arthur had stood there, wondering what the world was coming to if that was how an Unspeakable entered the archives. Nothing ever happened in the archives!

When the war ended the Ministry had been one bad omen away from descending into hell. Even now no one quite knew what to do with the paperwork that had been left by the wayside or with all the laws that had been passed under Minister Thicknesse.

The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office was an oasis and Arthur sunk into his chair with a relieved sigh. A pile of papers was waiting for his attention. Shrugging off his jacket, the ministry picked up his quill, ready to start his work.

There was a knock on his door. Arthur groaned. "Come in."

"Daddy," Ginny quickly closed the door behind her. "Can we talk?"

"If this is about Quidditch, puppet, then you know my stance on it," Arthur said. His wife and his daughter had been arguing about the girl's future career for years. Molly was the old-fashioned sort, she believed a girl should be married and have children as soon as possible. Arthur snorted. With how openminded his youngest child was it was no wonder they clashed so often. He waited for Ginny to plead with him as she was wont to do, but nothing came. His daughter was fidgeting, biting on a nail.  
"This isn't about Quidditch, is it?" Arthur frowned. "What's wrong, Ginevra?"

She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. When she met Arthurs' eyes there was something in them that reminded him of the day he'd first realized what kind of prejudiced world they lived. A young muggle-born witch had been found, stuck in a _petrificus totales_ and beaten to death, 'mudblood' carved into her forehead. It had been all over the papers, everyone he knew was talking about it. His mother had sat him and his brothers down and explained, with righteous fury as hot as dragons flame, the difference between right and wrong - and that no son of hers would _ever _do wrong.

A chill went down his spine.

"It's about Hermione," she said.

* * *

For the first time in weeks, there was an argument going on in the Burrow that Hermione herself was not part of. It had started when Mr. Weasley had come home. She'd been on her way to the kitchen when she heard him step out of the floo, had heard Mrs. Weasley put down whatever she'd been clanging around with and welcome him home.

"Sit down, Molly," Mr. Weasley commanded, "We need to talk."

"What's this about Arthur." Mrs. Weasley sounded confused. There was a dual scraping of chairs being slid back. "Did something happen in the Ministry?"

Hermione had sneaked back up the stairs, deciding to leave the pair to discuss in private. She recognized that tone from her own parents. It sounded like it was a family matter., and while she lived in the Burrow she was not a Weasley.

She'd barely made it upstairs when Molly had screeched.

"You can't do that! Ron will never agree to this. And think about Ginny, the poor girl will be devastated. No. I refuse. This isn't right. I will not let you do this to my babies. We just have to wait, everything will be back to normal soon. You'll see. They just need some-"

"It's already been arranged," Mr. Weasley's voice was laced with steel. "While I've been looking the other way for years, Molly, this ends now."

"Get back here, Arthur. Arthur!" There was panic in Mrs. Weasley's voice. "I won't let you do this. You have no right!"

"I have every right," Mr. Weasley roared. The whole Burrow shook. "As the head of the Weasley family, I am well within my rights, through law and magic, to send my children wherever I damn well please. For someone so stuck in those pureblood ways you grew up with, I'd think you'd appreciate me exercising my magic given rights. Move aside."

"If you do this it will ruin everything I've worked for," Mrs. Weasley pleaded. They were standing by the staircase, Mrs. Weasley blocking her husband from going up them. "Please."

"I said, move aside," Hermione had never seen Mr. Weasley look that cold, "or I will remove you myself, Ms. Prewett."

Mrs. Weasley gasped, then slowly slid out of Mr. Weasley's path.

The man ascended the stairs, footfalls loud on the creaking steps. Hermione was frozen, watching him come up. On the landing, he turned his attention to her. She flinched.

"Hermione, pack your bags," Mr. Weasley shuffled her towards her room and handed her an envelope.

Hermione hesitated. The man still looked angry, furious even. For the first time, Hermione realized how much Ron actually looked like his father.

"I'm sorry, sir. If I did anything wrong. Please, I have nowhere else to go."

Mr. Weasley looked at her, his eyes softening. "I'm not kicking you out, my dear. We're just going on a trip. We leave as soon as possible."

"A trip," Hermione blinked, willing herself not to feel relieved yet. "where to? Sir."

"We're going to Australia."

* * *

The air was different on the mainland, though Harry was unsure of how to describe the difference. Everything was different. The sky was less grey, the clouds looked fluffier, and the buildings here were more colorful. The people were different, too.

It had been two days since the circus had arrived in Amsterdam and Harry was having his first experience with culture shock since he'd first entered the wizarding world.

There were coffee shops that did not sell coffee, old brick buildings that leaned over streets like they were falling down and teenagers spending their school lunch break in the red light district - they greeted the women in the windows like old friends and didn't blink an eye at the posters of naked women or sex toys that were everywhere. Harry wasn't quite sure what to do with it all, or how he found himself stepping into a boat on one of the canals. He figured it was all Meghan's fault.

"Now this is more like it," Mortis said from behind him. He was wearing a suit covered in cannabis leaves, a pair of way too big sunglasses and a sash that read 'trust me, I'm high'. "I knew that joining the circus was a grand idea. Didn't I say so?"

Harry snorted. Death had been following Meghan and him around all day to 'enjoy the sights', as he put it. They took a seat on one of the benches while Meghan stopped to talk to the boatsman. Her pink head bopped up and down excitedly as she pointed at a tourist map she'd picked up earlier.

"You know, there's a magical community here, too." Mortis pulled a green bottle out from inside his jacket. It had a label that read Grolsch on the front. He popped the cork and took a swig. "I much prefer the Dutch magical community. A fun people."

Harry hummed, wondering if they'd recognize him if he went to take a look. He hoped not. 'Will you show me where it is?'

"You only have to ask," Mortis smiled, "You are my master, after all."

Meghan sank down on Harry's other side and waved the map in his face."This tour is going to be amazing! I read all about these canals for a school project, once. Did you know that there are one hundred and sixty-five sixty of them? That's over a hundred kilometers of waterways!"

Harry leaned back in his seat as his pink haired friend rambled out facts about the city at a high pace, smiling indulgently at her.

"Does she never shut up?" Mortis said, staring at the girl in slight distaste. He got an elbow in his side for the trouble.


End file.
